Dauntless Treatment Center
by SoNotBiancaDiAngelo
Summary: A boy with a troubled past. An anorexic girl on a feeding tube. A diabulemic. A boy with slashes on his arms. Two alcoholics. A girl addicted to drugs. A girl with severe OCD. And a girl whose multiple suicide attempts left her wheelchair bound. This is the gang at Dauntless Treatment Center.
1. Chapter 1

A/n: yet another new story, gang! Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I'm not V Roth.

Chapter One:

Four:

The woman who picked me up from the airport is raddling on and on about something; I didn't catch most of it, but I can gather it's about Dauntless Treatment Center, the place the social worker sent me to as soon as she met me.

When we reach the building, I have to resist the urge to bolt. This is so stupid; I'm not in need of this place.

I'm led through the halls to a white door, marked with the name Amar. The social worker raps on the door, and turns to face me.

"Good luck, Tobias."

"Four." I say, striding over the threshold of the door without bothering to knock.

"Hi, Four." Amar smiles at me. I don't return it.

"Why am I here?" I ask, rolling my eyes.

"You're here because Candace Shepard was worried about you."

"Well, tell her not to be." I say, biting my cutical absently.

"Anyway," Amar says, smiling at me, "the goal of the center is to help you recover. Cell phones are allowed here, and there are only a few rules: one, be respectful. We're open to debates, and if you feel you need to lash out, there's a training room on the bottom floor. Second, be where you're suposed to be, when you're supposed to be there. And third, you have to submit to charting, which is simply your vitals, weight, and any medications you took that day, or injuries you aquired. Here's today's schedule." Then he hands a piece of paper across the table. It looks something like this:

12:00 to 1:10: lunch

1:10 2:10: free time and reflection

2:10 to 3:10: group

3:10 to 4:10: individual therapy

4:10 to 5:10: free time

5-10 to 6:10: dinner

6:10 to 7:10: srrts center; free time

7:10 to 8:10: pool; free time

8:10 to 9:10: vital check

9:10: curfew

I stare at the print-out in my hands. I can't believe how tightly they control you here. Amar must be reading my thoughts, because he says, "Four, we aren't prison, okay? Lunch is in ten minutes. Allow me to show you to the cafeteria."

The cafeteria is a small room, with one long table, which can seat twenty, or so it seems. There's already a girl there.

She's got long, mousy brown hair, and dark brown eyes. She's picking at a hangnail on her right hand, and looks kinda out of it.

I wind up across from her, waiting with her for the others to arrive. We don't speak. She's far too occupied by the earbuds in her ears.

The next person to arrive is a guy who looks about my age. He has broad shoulders, and a jokular face. He drops down at the end of the table, and taps his fingers against the wood. I wait for him to introduce himself, but I guess they're not big on intros here.

Two more people enter together. Both girls; one in a wheelchair, with short brown hair and brown eyes, and a tough looking girl with a shaved head, who looks like she could beat my ass. She wheels the wheelchair-bound girl and to the table, and heads towards the lunch line.

A carbon copy of the first boy enters, sitting next to him. I guess they must be twins.

Three others straggle in together; a tall girl with long black hair, almond-shaped brown eyes, and dark skin, who's wheeling an IV pole along beside her. A boy with shaggy blonde hair, green eyes, and a jacket on even though it's summer. And a tiny wisp of a girl with long blonde hair and gray blue eyes. A clear tube snakes out of her right nostril and hooks over her ear.

The lunchline is opened, and I notice that everyone but the girl with the shaved head, the girl with the feeding tube, and the girl in the wheelchair, are rading it. I join the line, taking a hamburger back to my seat.

It's awkward. Everyone's silent. Feeding tube girl is pinching at her non-existent stomach like she wants to make herself somehow smaller. The football brothers (so called because they were both probably on the football team at their school before coming here), are in the middle of a low, urgent discussion. Earbuds Girl hasn't looked up. Wheelchair Girl is eating. Jacket Boy is stirring his soup around and around, but isn't eating any of it. IV Girl is carefully eating, as if she has to eat, but also has to count the callories.

And then there's me. I'm wondering what nickname the others have already come up with for me. I eat my hamburger, even though it's dry as hell, force myself to eat some pudding, even though it looks disgusting and doesn't taste much better, and then pull out my cell phone, and turn on a YouTube vidio, determined to forget I'm here for a few minutes.

A/n: okay, so let's play a little game, y'all! Can you figure out who each of the gang is? One point for every one you get right. The person with the highest number of points gets a shout-out. Alrighty, audios amigos!

Bianca.


	2. Chapter 2

a/n: Okay, so another short chapter. I hope you enjoy it, though. Chapter three is longer, though. I pre-wrote it.

Disclaimer: So not Veronica Roth.

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Chapter Two:

Four:

Group is in a large, sunny room off the lobby. A middle-aded woman named Tori leads it. We all gather around in "the Circle of Support", and introduce ourselves, probably for my sake. Name, age, why we wound up here, room number, and how we're doing today.

"I'll start," Tori informs us. "I'm Tori, I'm forty-two, I'm here to help y'all, I'm in room number twelve, and I'k good."

IV girl goes next. "I'm Christina Lovett. I'm sixteen. I'm here because I'm what's called a diabulemic; I was using my insulin to keep my blood sugars at just high enough a level to where I'd lose weight, but low enough that I wouldn't have to go to the hospital. It didn't work, though. I'm in room three. I'm okay, I guess."

Jacket Boy goes next. He speaks in a no-nonsense, fa way. "William Curtis, although I prefer W. I'm sixteen, a junior in high school. I have self-harmful tendancies. I'm in room number five. I am doing well, thank you."

Feeding Tube girl is next up. She speaks quietly, but every word resinates in the tiny room. "Tris. Sixteen. Anorexia Mervosa. Room six. Fine." I study her, and decide that she's smoke; barely there.

"I'm Zeke" Football brother one begins, "and I'm Uriah." says the other one. "Zeke's seventeen, and Uriah's sixteen." They finish each other's sentences, probably without meaning to. "We're here because, well, we were addicted to alcohol. We both got severe alcohol poisoning at a party, and were sent here. Zeke's in room seven, and Uriah's in room eight." I silently wonder if I'll be able to tell them apart.

Wheelchair girl is next. "Um, I'm Shauna. I'm sevenseen. I have suicidal tendancies. I'm in room two. I'm okay."

Earbuds girl, now without her earbuds, goes next. "Hey! I'm Marlene Bukannen. I'm sixteen, I'm in room nine, I'm here because I have severe OCD. And I'm good."

The final members to speak are Kickasss and me. I learn that Kickass is Lynn, she's sixteen, in room one, and is a druggie.

I really don't need this. I'm not a mental case like those kids. There's nothing wrong with me; I'm one hundred percent normal.

"Four, your turn." Tori prods gently.

"Four." I say sternly; I do not ever want to associate with these people. "Seventeen. Not sure. Four, ironically. Fine."

Then the whole place goes silent. Nobody is talking. It's as if there's an elephant in the room.

Damn this. This is shit, and I hate it! This is a dream; a bad dream. Sure, I didn't have a good childhood, and sure, I was abused, but I didn't think that would add up to this! Locked in a mental hospital the a bunch of mental case kids!

Tris puts her finger and thumb into a circle around her wrist, pushing up until it breaks. Marlene is tapping her feet in eights. Will is picking at a scar on his arm. Christina is braiding a strand of her hair. Lynn is glaring, per usual. Zeke and Uriah are communicating in morce code. I don't know if they know that I know what their saying, but I do. They're planning a prank on Lynn and Marlene.

Other than that, no one's talking. Tori sits back in her seat, crossing her arms. I lean my chin onto my hand, propping my elbow up onto my knee. I sense Tris staring, and give her a sharp look. She doesn't wilt, like the other girls do, she glares back at me. And this girl can glare.

"Alright." Tori says, tapping her fingers against the armrest of her chair. "What do you guys remember about coming here?"

"The ambulance drove me," Christina says, flicking her IV with her other hand. "I was in the hospital forever. They couldn't get it down because I binged. On chocolate, and stuff. Kept my sugars up. Like, really, really, high so they couldn't bring them back down. That's why I have the IV; it's so they don't have to worry about me taking my insulin."

"Yeah." Tris says, mimicking my possition. "Same with my feeding tube."

"And whq do you remember, Tris?" Tori asks, tucking her fet under her.

"Being told by the school nurse I was going in for a psych exam." Tris says, flicking her tube back behind her ear. "I weighed sixty-two pounds. I weigh seventy-three, now."

"I weigh two hundred." I tell her, examining her arms. They're lean, every muscle defined. "Besides, most of that weight's probably your muscle. Muscle is heavier than fat, am I right?"

Tris pinches at her non-existent stomach and shrugs. She doesn't meet my eyes, but that's okay. I don't need her to. Because I understand.

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a/n: okay, so I hope you enjoy. Shout outs to Guess Who, Tlcoopi7, and Athleticbooknerd. Today's question, who do you think is the first gang member to speak to Four? Shout outs if you get it right. I'll see you next Thursday! Adios amigos!

Bianca.


End file.
